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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423004">on a winter's night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhhhhhhappycow/pseuds/hhhhhhhappycow'>hhhhhhhappycow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, I don't know why I wrote this I don't like angst, Inspired by Love Actually, Love Actually References, Love Confessions, M/M, My brain: Write that scene in Love Actually but make it Sakuatsu!!!, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:53:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhhhhhhappycow/pseuds/hhhhhhhappycow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kita was everything Kiyoomi wished he could be, kind and forgiving and trusting, able to take a hold of Atsumu's hand at the altar without balking or flinching away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>on a winter's night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based off of this scene in Love, Actually: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2KtVKu9CfDA</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snow crunched under Kiyoomi’s feet and his breath billowed as he approached the door. It was awkward, walking while carrying these placards under his arm. He set them against the iron fence to the side momentarily: A picture of perfection, as it had been since they moved in. All of the flowers in the garden had been covered over now, but the snow piled uniformly on the neatly-trimmed hedge.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door. Even with his gloves on, his fingers felt numb. He could leave now. Except he couldn’t. Not with how he had left before.</p><p> </p><p>Best to get it over with quickly. Drawing in a biting breath, he knocked on the door.</p><p> </p><p>He was in luck: When it swung open it was warm amber eyes that met his, a flash of blond hair in the hallway light. He hadn't planned for the other eventuality.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise. Of course, he hadn’t expected to see Kiyoomi here. Not today.</p><p> </p><p>Before he could speak, Kiyoomi raised one finger, swiftly pressing it to his lips. The cold of his glove wet his bottom lip, and he licked it away with his tongue as he reached behind himself for the signs and his cover; the small stereo he had borrowed from Komori.</p><p> </p><p>When he turned back to the golden rectangle of light and warmth, he was relieved to see that Atsumu was following his instructions: He had closed his mouth and was leaning against the door with his arms folded and a wary expression on his face. That was good, at least. It would make everything run much smoother.</p><p> </p><p>With a soft clicking noise, the stereo began to play: Carol music, the voices crooning in angelic harmony. As though it were a drama and this was the romantic climax of the plot, it began to snow once again.</p><p> </p><p>He lifted the first card and allowed himself to look at Atsumu. His face was still guarded, yet curious now. He was dressed in a warm sweater, all ready for Christmas.</p><p> </p><p>“I- It’s carol singers”, he called, his voice still somewhat uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>And then, from the other room: “Oh. Hold on, I’ll come out.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu’s eyes flickered up to Kiyoomi's, and Kiyoomi shook his head minutely. Kita was his friend, too, and Kiyoomi genuinely liked him- which was of course one of the reasons he couldn’t see this.</p><p> </p><p>“No, wait there”, Atsumu called back. “You’ll let the cold in.” He swallowed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Make sure you give them enough money.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu laughed at that, warm and rich and full, and his eyes were bright when they turned toward Kiyoomi once more. The way they never had been with him. Kiyoomi could recall how Atsumu’s eyes had shone on the day of the wedding. The almost liquid heat in those golden pools, and when they had briefly latched onto Kiyoomi at the reception, behind his video camera, how they had filled with gratitude. It had taken them a long time to become friends, a long time for Kiyoomi to befriend Kita too, and Atsumu deserved to know now why he had to build this distance between them, at least for a while.</p><p> </p><p>Realizing that Atsumu was waiting for that explanation, Kiyoomi began to go through the signs, revealing them one after another.</p><p> </p><p>A silent laugh, this one more subdued, stretched across Atsumu’s face when Kiyoomi reached the slide with various images of models, proclaiming that he hoped he would meet and fall in love with one of them one day. Kiyoomi felt something clench in his chest. The snow around them began to pick up speed. He would have to make this quick: Atsumu was starting to shiver.</p><p> </p><p>Cycling through the cards swiftly now. Making his confession. It was foolish, really: Atsumu must have known by now, must have known the second he saw the video. It all rushed back to him: The chill of fear when Atsumu had asked for a wedding video and how he had avoided his closest friend for a week afterward, how Atsumu’s bewilderment slowly turned to sorrowful understanding as it played on a loop because it was all Atsumu, and it hadn’t always been but he had somehow managed to creep up on Kiyoomi over the years and find a home deep inside his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Even as his gaze flickered over the writing, Atsumu couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, toward the living room where Kita was surely waiting. Probably curled comfortably on the couch, waiting for Atsumu to come back.</p><p> </p><p>When Kiyoomi had met Kita had been the worst part, the one that opened the wound wide and raw. He had heard about Kita. Atsumu rarely stopped speaking about him. Kiyoomi had wished so badly he could be jealous of Kita. Yet he had soon found that the man was too pleasant for Kiyoomi to harbour any bitter feelings: So kind, always helping his old team any way he could, whether it be advising Ojiro or helping out around the restaurant with Osamu, going out of his way to befriend Kiyoomi and trusting him, never once doubting that Kiyoomi's feelings for Atsumu were purely platonic. Kita was everything Kiyoomi wished he could be, kind and forgiving and trusting, able to take a hold of Atsumu's hand at the altar without balking or flinching away.</p><p> </p><p>He was running out of cards. It was nearly time to go.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, he was amazed Atsumu had been silent that long.</p><p> </p><p>A small noise had him looking up, in time to see Atsumu clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a chuckle. Ah. He had reached the mummy sign. He was a little embarrassed now, by the sentimental words he had written: Would he really love Atsumu until he looked like that? The knot in Kiyoomi's stomach tightened. He hoped not.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu swallowed down his amusement, dropping his hands, and it was a fond look now that he turned on Kiyoomi. A glowing affection that emanated from him so easily and washed over the whole team on days that they had celebrated together. It was easier still to get caught up in that shine, to think that it was something special and not a sweeping wave that washed over all in its path.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi’s hands were trembling as he revealed the final card: Merry Christmas.</p><p> </p><p>He watched Atsumu’s eyes trace the writing, watched them drip silent from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Their gazes met, amber melting into black until, finally, Kiyoomi looked down, carefully tucking the signs back under one arm.</p><p> </p><p>With one final half-smile at Atsumu, he turned to go.</p><p> </p><p>The snow was heavier now, beating his face, and he huddled in his coat against it. His fingers felt raw on the cold of the stereo’s handle, but he had promised Komori that he would bring it back.</p><p> </p><p>Komori. The outside world began to seep back in. Yes. He would go and visit Komori and speak to his cousin for a while; maybe visit Bokuto and Akaashi, too, and spend some time with them. He could speak on the phone with Hinata and Wakatoshi and Iizuna. He wouldn’t visit Miya Onigiri, though. Not for some time. As nice as Osamu always was to him, there was the problem of his face, and the possibility of running into Atsumu or Kita there. The world would keep on turning, Winter would fade into Spring, practice would continue as normal, and Kiyoomi would stop loving Miya Atsumu.</p><p> </p><p>Houses on either side of the street were illuminated by reams of yellow and red and blue and green, and Kiyoomi allowed the intermittent glares to light his way back toward his car.</p><p> </p><p>He was almost at the end of the road when crunching footsteps gave him pause.</p><p> </p><p>Please. No. Just let it end now.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he was unable to keep himself from turning.</p><p> </p><p>Through the veritable blizzard, Atsumu stood in the street, shivering yet with the defiant look in his eyes that Kiyoomi had come to know well. There would be no use in telling him to go back inside, even if his slippers were the only things keeping his feet from touching the snow.</p><p> </p><p>He had one hand held out, fingers inches from Kiyoomi's coat, but when Kiyoomi pivoted he dropped them. His eyes drew Kiyoomi’s in, hidden behind lashes darkened with melting snowflakes.</p><p> </p><p>Jerkily, Atsumu held his arms out in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi nodded, and he stepped forward, Atsumu meeting him in a hug. It wasn’t very pleasant: All Kiyoomi could feel was the damp encasing him, the way Atsumu shivered against the few patches of cool exposed skin.</p><p> </p><p>And then certain warm points began to poke through: The familiar smell of Atsumu’s aftershave; the rough cling of his hands against Kiyoomi's broad back; their shift to soothing circles after a few seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu whispered, harsh in his ear; “I’m sorry, Omi. I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi moved away until he could see Atsumu’s face, shaking his head and smiling. He had to let Atsumu know that it was not his fault; that this was something he couldn’t have stopped. Kiyoomi had tried, tried so hard not to love him, and it should have been easy for him not to. But Atsumu somehow had a way of slipping in through all of the cracks, of appearing unbidden when Kiyoomi needed him so that it had been almost impossible to shut him out. Kiyoomi would never regret the effort they had both put into their friendship, the pride he had felt as he watched Atsumu murmur his vows, the joy of every seemingly impossible victory they had torn from their opponent’s hands together.</p><p> </p><p>A shuddering laugh rippled through Atsumu, and he nodded. He dropped his arms and took a step back, a flurry of snow moving in like a veil to separate them, and the world around them returned once more. Kiyoomi wondered how Atsumu was going to explain his soaking clothes to Kita, but if Kiyoomi knew anything about Atsumu, he knew that he would somehow find a way.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu’s face grew paler through the flakes with each backward step he took until eventually he was lost.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi stared for a moment longer, attempting to make him out. He thought maybe he saw him, briefly, in a flicker of movement and a sliver of bronze: Then he was gone entirely.</p><p> </p><p>His face felt wet and exposed.</p><p> </p><p>“Enough”, he whispered to himself, turning to go, and his voice came out as raw as his skin. “Enough now.”</p><p> </p><p>It was over. It was over, and it might take a while, but it was going to be okay. He began to walk faster: Komori was waiting for his stereo.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So originally I was actually going to write this about Atsumu visiting Kita and Aran because I love them and there aren't enough fics with them in it, but I couldn't do that to them. For some reason, I just wanted to write sad Sakuatsu.</p><p>I hope anyone reading enjoyed this!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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